


Keeping The World A While Longer

by TheSecretCity



Category: Eastern Promises (2007)
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecretCity/pseuds/TheSecretCity
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of rescuing the baby, Kirill and Nikolai have a much-needed discussion.
Relationships: Kirill/Nikolai Luzhin
Kudos: 2





	Keeping The World A While Longer

Nikolai hadn’t had time to think, since he had left the hospital. Then Anna, the baby, Kirill, all of it, happened so quickly. He wasn’t sure that the last of the morphine had worn off by the time he had talked Kirill down from killing the child. Not that he had needed much encouragement to do it—Kirill loved children, all children. It was one of his good points.  
Now, in his flat, Nikolai found himself in his living room, head between his knees, trying to breathe on New Year’s Day at five in the morning. He and Kirill had gone to his, instead of back to the restaurant when Kirill lived cheek and jowl with Semyon. The police would come for him soon enough, and they would go back. For the night, however, they had collapsed on Nikolai’s bed with no regard for propriety.  
Kirill was asleep on his bed, and he was in the living room, finally clear-headed enough to have a panic attack. It came in waves, and he kept his head bent, waiting for it to pass, trying to control his breathing. His hands were shaking, and the attack wasn’t passing.  
Fucking baths. Fucking nearly dying, naked, while three men tried to kill him. Fucking Semyon, who he was going to see if he could have killed in custody, the law be damned.  
His ears were ringing, so he hadn’t heard Kirill come into the room, and drop beside him, a hand on his shoulder. It made him come up with the intent to hit, and that made Kirill throw both his hands up.  
They froze like that, Nikolai with his fist raised, Kirill protecting his face, blue eyes wide, the specter of Semyon between them  
“Fuck,” Nikolai dropped his fist. “Fuck, Kirill, I’m sorry.”  
Kirill dropped his hands, slowly. “What’s wrong, Kolya?” he asked, in a soft voice. It was the voice he used for his little nieces, for children, even a few women.  
Kolya waved the question off. “Is nothing.”  
“It’s something,” Kirill insisted, and sat beside him. This time, when he reached over, Nikolai didn’t react with violence. He expected a companionable pat on the shoulder, but instead, Kirill began to rub his back, slow circles through the hoodie he was still wearing, scratching a little with his short nails.  
It felt good. Too good. Nikolai relaxed into the feeling. Of all people, he knew Kirill wouldn’t try to kill him. Even his own handler would kill him, if the need arose, but Kirill? No. Kirill would never try to hurt him.  
“Is it the banya?” Kirill asked softly.  
Nikolai nodded, head bowed.  
Kirill clicked his tongue in sympathy. “I can’t believe he did that to you, baby.”  
Baby? Kirill had never called him that before. “It made sense. It was why he offered me stars—because you had them, Kiryusha, and they needed to think I was you.”  
Kirill didn’t seem to immediately notice the fond pet name Nikolai had called him. “Papa told me you were dead, and like an idiot, I didn’t check. I should have been there, with you. Not in the banya, I would have been useless, I know, but I should have been in the hospital when you woke up.”  
“You are here now,” and at least he could admit to himself, it had been only Kirill he had wanted to see when he woke up.   
“I’m here now,” Kirill agreed, shifting closer, changing from petting Nikolai’s back to carefully embracing him, trying not to disturb the stitches.  
Suddenly, Nikolai realized he didn’t give a fuck about his assignment, about bringing down the Bratva, any of it. He gave a fuck about Kirill, who was probably the only person left who gave a fuck about him beyond his usefulness. If he died, the only real mourner would be Kirill.  
He reached up and took Kirill’s hand, the one not around his sore shoulders, entwinning their fingers.  
Kirill was quiet, not resisting, but trying to understand what Nikolai was on about.  
“It will be us now, you know. We can decide the rules,” Nikolai offered.  
He felt Kirill nod, then lay his head on Nikolai’s shoulder.   
“You think we need to change some rules?” Kirill’s voice was light.  
“I think we’ve needed to change some rules for a very long time,” and Nikolai finally looked at Kirill, whose eyes were wide, questioning where Nikolai was going with this.  
Nikolai decided, fuck it. He could blame the last of the morphine in his system. He tilted his head, leaned down, and kissed Kirill on the lips.  
Not long, but enough to get his point across, then leaning back and away, to give him time to think.  
Kirill blinked, licked his lips. He did that slowly, savoring the taste. And then he smiled.  
That was the sun coming out, and Nikolai relaxed. He even felt himself start to smile, because this wasn’t Kirill’s mocking smile. No, this was joy.  
Kirill wiggled himself closer, and then with the shyness of a schoolboy, he kissed Nikolai’s cheek, below the new scars forming there. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We’ll wait until my sister calls screaming that Papa got arrested, then go in and save everyone.”  
Back to bed, where it was warm and Kirill would lay his head down, letting Nikolai play with his hair. That had always been calming, when Kirill was angry and drunk and Nikolai had wanted a few moments of peace. Kirill would always settle right down, too, like a contented child.   
Nikolai nodded. The panic attack had faded, he was getting even more tired. “Okay, Kirill.”  
Kirill gave him anther quick kiss. “You can call me what you called me before, you know.”  
“Kiryusha?” so he had noticed, then.  
Kirill nodded.  
“Kiryusha,” Nikolai repeated, the warmth seeping into his voice.   
They went back to bed, Kirill laying his head on Nikolai’s shoulder, a comforting weight to drive the dreams and the panic back, keeping the world peaceful for a while longer.


End file.
